Someone to Remember Them By
by Hawku
Summary: Unofficial Literary Challenge 12: In the early 25th century, a Klingon named Treth goes on an honor-bound mission surrounding her son, Feng, involving the Captains of the U.S.S. Crucial, U.S.S. Jenova and U.S.S. Hijinx.
1. Part I: Someone to Remember Them By

The _Intrepid_ -class U.S.S. _Crucial_ sat at out in orbit of the Takarian home world. Scores of Starfleet officers beamed back to the ship, including Captain's Menrow, Reynolds and Iviok.

"Well, that was a close one," Menrow said, entering the Bridge. "Good thing you overloaded those already overloading thought devices to release the block on our transporters."

Iviok nodded. "The trick was increasing its power — A technique I like to call _'Giving 'er all she's got'_. But, seriously, why'd you wait the whole turbolift ride to re-explain what we already knew?"

"He's fulfilling our explain-quota," Reynolds elucidated. "All us Captain's have a pre-determined amount to fill by the end of 2410."

Menrow approached his Captain's chair. "Let's just hope it doesn't drag on like 2409 did." He then turned to them. "Anyway, we need to re-open that wormhole for the _Crucial_ and return you to your ships. Having us all together in one thing is confusing and 'too out there'."

Iviok and Reynolds nodded and re-entered the turbolift to get to work. Menrow's senior staff exited the turbolift and took their posts on the Bridge.

"Captain Menrow," Hatcha opened. "Your orders? And may they be for us to take showers? It seems our preoccupation with cultural imperialism exceeded our basic occupation for hygiene."

Menrow shook his head. "I want this to serve as a reminder to us. Never are we to shower again! Never forget!"

"Sir, your yelling has negated the observation that we are being approached by a specially-converted probe, off the port bow," Grunley reported, taking the Tactical station.

The Captain turned to him. "There was no negating; I just feel strongly about speaking loudly."

"The probe appears to have two persons inside of it? Like some kind of man, or woman, sized birthday cake?" Hatcha read from her Science console.

Menrow nodded. "An apt analogy. Beam the two onto the Bridge. Seriously, what's the point of a Transporter room when we can beam people anywhere?"

"Greetings," a female Klingon rematerialized in front of everyone. Next to her was a young boy, half-Klingon, half-Human. "My name is Treth. I am an ex-mate of yours and I have been searching for the _Crucial_."

The Human Captain acknowledged her. "How'd you get here so fast, not to mention even knowing where we were?"

"Rumors and such. As for the expediency, my probe has been retrofitted with a negotiation-voice, monotone speaker that books its own passage on transport and cargo ships all throughout the galaxy," she clarified. "For me, I chose the probe way, as that is the traditional ex-Klingon lover way to reach a man; a-la K'Ehleyr."

Menrow sized her up, "Ah, Klingon females; tougher to conquest than the Tzenkethi."

"Do you have any idea how long I've been stuck in that probe, Menrow? The purpose being that the honorable thing to do was to introduce you to your son, Feng," she gestured and glanced over to the boy. " _ghuy'cha'!_ He was just a little baby when I last saw him?"

Feng looked up at her, now appearing to be several years older. "I've grown, mother."

"And you can talk?" her jaw dropped.

Captain Menrow looked at the two of them, "Ah, the baby mama situation; classic. But, I'm going to be honest. I don't remember you."

"Yes, I'm well aware of your promiscuous nature. But I was the one who was responsible for your leg requiring amputation after a fierce love-making session. There was a whole sad episode about the repercussions, and you, out-genre bonding with a hologram named Vic," Treth explained.

Menrow shook his head. "No, I mean, my mind was previously switched out for a very long time by a Traveler named Wayfar. I lived in the 28th century, aboard Spacedock, but they called it Starbase 001 for some reason. Then, when Wayfar returned me, a long time later, another version of myself had accomplished so much in my absence. I suspect interactions with that-me were very bland and doll-like."

"That is what attracted me to you! Your blank-Lal-like stares!"

Hatcha slammed her fists on her console. "Wayfar has been nothing but trouble! It's his constant mind-switching, the second of which gave our bodies to that Ferengi crew, that led to the destruction of several Starfleet ships!"

"Despite those deaths," Menrow approached the two Klingons, "And, perhaps, their occurrence as a necessity, I am finally willing to take on the responsibility of being a father."

Treth pulled her son away. "What? No way! Not if it wasn't actually you? I had plans for my son's life, but put them on-hold for honor. But, now, as that said-honor isn't necessary, I am free to return to do my doings and so on! Sorry, I couldn't be more specific."

"He has my DNA?"

The Klingon shook her head. "Doesn't matter! It wasn't you. Am I right, Menrow's lackeys?"

"This seems like a complicated question. Can we start a new thread? Is there a mod that can watch its progression?" Hatcha asked.

Treth spat at them. "Forget it! As I said, honor is not necessary here; and for love, no one could make a life with an indiscriminate man like you. See the Kirk articles at Memory Alpha for details. —Come, my son. We shall return to the cramped probe of which our spines do not forgive."

"Yes, mother," Feng replied.

The Klingon's eyes widened at her child. "I seriously will not get used to that." She then slapped her wrist communicator and the two transported away, in a red flurry. The probe, on screen, then cloaked out of sight.

"Sorry about your loss, Captain," Hatcha offered, "But, it appears Iviok and Reynolds were able to reopen the Barzan wormhole."

Menrow sighed. "Well, perhaps Treth has a point about my ways. Then again, that very same nature can procure more oddly-mixed young, if I'm not mistaken? This time, consciously? —Now, helm, set a non-phallic course for the wormhole!"


	2. Part II: Misplaced

The _Centaur_ -class U.S.S. _Jenova_ watched as the Barzan wormhole opened just outside Vandor IV. The _Crucial_ exited and transported Iviok and Reynolds back to the _Jenova_.

"Ah, wormholes; the waste-extraction pipelines of the galaxy," Iviok commented while the two of them entered the Excelsior-class-looking Bridge. "Did I miss anything while I was away?"

Caveat, the Chief engineer, got out of his chair. "It looks like the Orions evacuated the vicinity. Likely due to the might of our 23rd century-esque, Tier 1 starship."

"That's what I like to hear; continued delusion," Iviok patted him on his shoulder. "But it's more likely the _Jade Fox_ called off the whole operation. Well, at least Reynolds and I were able to force re-open the Barzan wormhole using calculations of time warp!"

Gondi spoke up, from his tactical console, "Actually, the lab on Vandor IV is reporting that whatever space-time manipulations you have done has caused the recent fixations to dissipate, and never return."

"What?! That means the Jenolan Dyson Sphere is our only Delta Quadrant access?" Reynolds cursed. "Which means more forced interactions with that long-winded bore, Ethan Burgess. Uggh. Let me know when we've reached the _Hijinx_."

Iviok nodded before Reynolds left the Bridge. He then turned to his crew. "I'll be in my Ready Room, going through our daily damage reports. Remember— if the ship isn't dented, then it might as well be rented."

* * *

Not long later, the doorbell to Captain Iviok's ready room toned, and Caveat was let in. The Andorian was working on some devices on his desk.

"Okay, I don't know jack about the 24th century, but everybody out there thinks staying here and fighting the Borg is suicide!" Caveat cut straight to the point. "They're just afraid to say it to your blue face."

Iviok looked at him, perplexed. "Huh? You know we aren't scheduled to confront the Borg for at least two weeks? And it's the 25th century?"

"Ah," Caveat snapped his fingers in realization. "Forgot. —What I meant to start with was that recent reports from around the ship have detailed the missing of several unimportant items: a hyper-spanner here, a Mirror Universe transporter device there..."

The Andorian Captain put down his pieces. "All things you can find on a starship. —Wait. Was that me? That may have been me?"

"No," Caveat answered, examining at his desk mess. "You appear to have half the parts to an exocomp; those lovable futuristic roombas. —No, you see, someone's been stealing specific unremarkable items from around the ship for some greater reason. But, what for, I fear to know."

Iviok stood up. "Then there's only one way to find out. We have to look at what they took and build what they're building before they can!"

"Seems reasonable," Caveat replied.

* * *

Later, in the _Jenova's_ Engineering, Iviok and Caveat stood around an unrecognizable tall, mechanical mash-up.

"So... what is it?" Iviok asked, sharing a loss for answers.

Caveat looked. "It's, uhh, it's green."

"It's yellow!" Iviok countered.

Caveat shook his head out of it. "Right; of course. I was having an Engineer flash back. —Should we activate this thing, without testing of any kind?"

"You know the answer to that," Iviok replied. He then moved over to it and flicked a switch. It started shaking and emitting a bright, fantastical light.

Entering Engineering, the Starfleet Klingon first officer, Melyot, walked, carrying a similar device. "Aw! How'd you get yours working? All mine seems to do is dispense sarcastic remarks." He placed his device down and flicked its switch.

 _"Eat any good books lately?"_ the device spurted in the Computer's voice.

Meylot punched it. "You know I have!"

"Wait, Commander, so you're the one behind the tale of the stolen things all throughout the ship?" Iviok turned. "It was such a long and arduous mystery!"

The first officer turned to him. "I clearly specified what I was doing in a report I sent to you last week."

"Ah, that explains it. I used your reports to level my desk. -Engineer, you see; I solve problems." Iviok said, satisfied. "But why'd you try to build a thing that horribly transforms spatial harmonics?"

Suddenly, a Klingon female, named Treth beamed in from a cloaked probe, with her early-childhood-aged son, Feng. "Because he was trying to impress me!"

"Ah!? My online chat, possible-hookup?" Melyot reacted in shock.

Treth spat in his direction. "You fool! You couldn't even build a simple extradimensional transformation matrix! How could you expect a date?" She then turned to the others. "You see, I believe my son is the end-game Kuvah'magh of all Kuvah'maghs: the legendary Kuvah'Kugh'Heg'Meh'Mughehegh! He is said to exist outside the space-time continuum, in the future, and is foretold to bring about a new era of generalized events in the Klingon Empire."

"So, this device, carelessly cobbled together using second handed parts from a Tier 1, 23rd century-type, half-broken _Centaur_ -class starship, transforms people into non-corporeal beings?" Iviok worked out.

The Klingon female spat at him, this time. "You fool! It will only work on my son, because he was born with delta series radioisotopes, of which he is immune. Also, you are continued fools because his transformation happened while we were talking, just now!"

"Hello, mother," a floating, glowing sparse of energy said in a calm voice.

Treth was taken aback. "Ah! —You know how that freaks me out! And the way you say it too; just weird."

"Damn, Menrow's temporal-altered cells!" Iviok cursed to the side. "Also, how could you do this to a child? They're the hair-spotted larvae of the humanoid condition."

The woman glared at him. "Beliefs! Beliefs are the cornerstone of strange sciencey-things. Well, from your perspective, at least. From mine, they're an annoying step from zero to prophecy." She then turned to her floating-energy son. "Come now, Feng. There is more to be done."

"Very well, mother," the energy said with a creepy sly tone. The two of them exited Engineering, with no one daring to stop them.

Iviok turned to his Chief Engineer. "The lesson here is, technological progress goes too absurd at times. And we are its constant facilitators."

"We need to be more careful," Caveat suggested.

Captain Iviok approached each, tall mashed-up device. "Agreed. For now, let's dismantle the spirit-making machine, but keep the sarcasm-making machine."

 _"You can't destroy me, anymore than you could win a beauty contest,"_ the insulting device directed at Commander Melyot.

The Klingon punched it again. "taHqeq!" He then sighed and accepted the facts. "I am going to my quarters to re-do my Klingon Dating Profile. If there really will be a new era of generalized events, then I must prepare to take my chances."

Iviok and Caveat watched as Melyot left Engineering, while simultaneously trying to fix his rowdy, out-of-control hair.


	3. Part III: Bad Intelligence

The _Akira_ -class U.S.S. _Hijinx_ sat out in deep space as it was approached by the _Jenova_ , which transported Captain Reynolds over.

"It's good to be back!" the Betazoid exclaimed as she took a seat in her Captain's chair. "Who's been sitting here? There are leola root tart wrappers all over the arm consoles!"

Bo-Lin turned from his helm console. "That would be me. I saw an empty chair and I had to use it."

"You're lucky you're cute, or you'd be in a whole heap of trouble," Reynolds pointed as she wiped the trash to the floor.

Jolene turned from her science console. "Ma'am, that's no way to operate in a professional work place. In fact, it's quite inappropriate."

"Hey! I'll run my ship my way and when you get your own, you can run it yours!" She shook her head. "Sorry, everyone; I've all this pent up energy from being stuck on the lower decks of the _Crucial_ and _Jenova_ for two whole 'things'. Did you know the _Jenova's_ 8th Deck has no flooring? It's just highly volatile plasma conduits which you have to step around somehow."

Lane perked up from tactical. "Ma'am! The _Jenova_ has gone to warp and has registered a Restraining Order against us, where we have to keep at least 50 lightyears away!"

"I'll allow it," Reynolds conceded.

It was at that moment another, unrecognizable Starfleet officer entered the Bridge: a moody, man with a square jaw and dark attitude. "Greetings. My name is Mayhem."

"Captain! The computer's going nuts!" Lane reported. "Main control is being rerouted through main engineering— Weapons, shields, propulsion—"

Reynolds stood up. "What? Quickly, Mr. Esreck, lock out the main computer!"

"Huh? The who and the what now?" Esreck fumbled as he entered the Bridge, delayed, while holding an arm-full of packages of leola root tarts.

Mayhem turned to address the crew. "What you're experiencing will subside and you will regain control of your ship in just a few minutes. These computer changes are merely a result of my programming integrating itself: You see, I am a computer virus and a hologram."

"What the hell? You Nexus-Kirk jerk! We need to purge you from our systems?" Reynolds replied.

The viewscreen then clicked on, displaying an ad for Quark's: "Come to Quark's, Quark's is fun, come right now, don't walk— run!"

Mayhem shook his head. "Ugh; uninspired and lazy. Anyway, you purge me and you will be murdering one of your own. You see, despite my programming being infected by an Iconian probe's computer disarming algorithm— that's my backstory, by the way— I am still an enlisted, Command division, Starfleet Intelligence officer."

"He's right," Lane added. "Starfleet was founded upon equal opportunity employment. We have to respect who he is as a person and accept that he can do the job just like anybody else."

Suddenly the lights flickered and controls were restored. "Now," Mayhem continued, "As for my purpose here, I am to join you in your adventures into the Delta Quadrant and gather intel about it, to report to... Command."

"Why did you say it like that? Anyway, we've already been there and back several times. You missed the whole Vaadwuar assault and now we're working with Nog to rebirth the Krenim— nothing can possibly go wrong there."

Mayhem grunted. "Fine, fine. Clearly there is much catching up I must do. Now, take us to Ethan Burgess, where he will brief us on his life story up to this point."

"Uggh. That bag of wind? I hate him worse than I do Herthel!" Reynolds stopped before the hologram. "Can you even be trusted? You did infect my ship and claim to be part Iconian?"

The hologram turned to her. "Well, there's nothing you can do about your trust issues. It's not like you can read my mind."

"This way please," she ordered everyone.

* * *

Curious, the entire Bridge crew and Mayhem entered the turbolift and took it down toward the lower decks. During the ride, Reynolds used the opportunity to make small talk with Jolene:

"And, so, Captain Shon actually tried to ask me out, to which I replied, 'Who am I to argue with the Captain of the _Enterprise_?' A clear reference! And you know what? He didn't even get it; just stared blankly at me."

* * *

Entering Holodeck 3, Reynolds was quick to address the system.

"—Computer." Reynolds turned. "Create a hologram version of myself and display it in this simulated, artificial environment."

Then, a holographic-Betazoid, Reynolds, appeared next to them, wearing a skimpy, Risa, Lohunat Festival bikini. "I'm holo-mind-reading deception from the Mayhem hologram," it reported. "He is working with a Klingon named Treth."

"Damn! I forgot that costume was on default for me. —Computer, update to civilian clothing. —Mayhem, explain yourself and stop checking holo-me out."

In another bold turn of events, Treth and her energy-floating son transported into the Holodeck and addressed everyone. "Forget it! As you can see, we've been following you back to the _Hijinx_ all the way from the Takarian homeworld. For it was I that convinced Melyot, from the _Jenova_ , to reprogram Mayhem to help me."

"Hello, mother," the energy greeted in a creepy, child voice.

Treth waved him off. "Yes, yes; disturbing. Not now, though."

"Bloody hell!" Reynolds freaked. "How did you even know what we were saying before you beamed in?"

Treth folded her arms. "I am a Klingon."

"What? And you already got your kid to become non-corporeal. What more do you need?"

Treth unfolded her arms. "My son may now be an energy lifeform, but he needs help getting into a non-linear realm- for the full Klingon Prophet experience. I knew you were a Science officer, so I re-scheduled your crew and embedded science-y patches into Mayhem to modify your deflector dish into an interplexing spatial interphasic flexure pokey pokey."

"Hah! The joke's on you. My ship isn't even a Science ship. It's a defense vessel," Reynolds bragged.

The Klingon was taken aback. "But— why?"

"I'm smart, and a fighter. It's possible to be both," the Betazoid said.

Treth checked her Klingon PADD for the ship's progress. "NO! The array is taking twice as long!?"

"It's going to take even longer when I get through with it," Mayhem interjected. "You see, as yet another revelation, I object to you tampering with my program for your own personal goals. My programming is meant for my personal goals! Selfish, I know."

Everyone looked over at Mayhem who then appeared to be closing his eyes, gritting his teeth and concentrating really hard. Seconds later, the opposite result at which he was expecting occurred:

"Well now," Treth examined her live stream of the _Hijinx's_ system data. "It looks like, instead of stopping the dish, you improved it and started the spatial interphasic sequence."

Opening his eyes and realizing what he'd done, Mayhem cursed to himself. "Dammit! I forgot that as a virus, I have the antithetical effect on goals."

"Reynolds to Bridge— what's going on up there?" she tapped her commbadge.

Jolene shrugged. "The Bridge is empty. We're all here because you wouldn't explain what you were doing before exiting."

"Oh, right. Very well. Come with me," Reynolds ordered.

* * *

Following along, everyone, including Treth and the floating energy, Feng, joined the Captain in the cramped turbolift back to the Bridge. During the ride, Reynolds continued her small talk with Jolene:

"So, Shon and I had one date at Café des Artistes, where that one chick with the disheveled pink top sat. Turns out he's having marriage problems and he thought that, since I was Betazoid, I was some kind of counselor!"

* * *

Entering the Bridge, the crew came to view a spatial opening right in front of the ship. Inside were several Starfleet science ships.

"Captain!" Lane exclaimed. "They're the Science ships from Vandor IV!"

Reynolds looked on. "Impossible? The _Crucial_ destroyed them when it was Ferenginized?"

 _"Hijinx, this is Captain Jet of the Nova-class U.S.S. Shark— We were executing dimensional experiments when the Crucial approached and opened fire on us,"_ the human commanding officer hailed.

Andrea Reynolds nodded. "I appreciate you stating your ship class."

 _"The torpedo impacts from the Crucial knocked all of us into this plane of existence, shared by some kind of non-physical energy species,"_ Jet explained. _"It's likely what appeared to be us being destroyed was really just us being transported here."_

Inside, all around the Federation starships swirled massive amounts of orange gaseus aliens.

 _"We are the Zalkonians,"_ one of them echoed. _"We created this realm as an educational center for new-comers of our kind; to teach them the ways of non-corporeal existence. Unfortunately, having your ships here is a distraction to our students. They will not stop looking out the non-corporeal equivalent of your 'classroom windows'."_

With that, the starships were pushed out of the realm, through the tear in space.

"Strange alien creatures, you must take my son and teach him the ways of non-corporeal existence," Treth stepped up to the view screen.

The hovering-Feng floated over. "Hello, non-mothers."

 _"But he is not of our kind. It would be like creating an alternate reality Kirk after a series of several prime universe Captains. —Wait a minute. That has already happened? Well, this changes things. Since such an abomination has already been done, perhaps your son could adapt and evolve in the Zalkonian pre-school segment of our realm. There is a non-corporeal nap and snack time which tempers youthful rowdiness."_

Reynolds glanced at Treth, who was nodding agreeingly. "Then, I suppose some good came out of all this after all," Reynolds said. "Which is odd, because I was against anything Mayhem would be responsible for from the start."

"Goodbye all. You are all mothers to me now," the eerie gas of Feng said before floating through the bulkheads and into space.

On the screen, they watched as Feng entered through the spatial flexure and into the Zalkonian realm. The _Hijinx_ then disengaged its deflector dish and caused the flexure to close and disappear.

"As for you, Treth, you're under arrest for mischief!" Reynolds ordered. "Yes, that's an actual thing you can be arrested for. I once arrested a Harcourt Mudd-looking man for twirling his moustache, inexplicably."

Two security officers apprehended Treth and took her away. Meanwhile, Mayhem was left to the situation at hand.

"I just checked my files and it turns out I never was actually assigned to you. Perhaps, next time, I shall use reason and rationale subroutines to examine what may or may not be actual orders downloaded into my viral database. Yes, we must intel ourselves before we intel others. Now, you will take my apologies or suffer the consequences," Mayhem ordered.

Captain Reynolds squinted at him. "Your aggressiveness makes you like a double Klingon in some ways. Anyhow, is there somewhere we can transport you? Or a Recycling Bin icon we can drop you in?"

"Negative. I see that the U.S.S. _Enterprise_ -F is in the vicinity, so I will just transfer over to them."

In a matter of seconds, Mayhem disappeared and was transmitted over. As soon as the _Odyssey_ -class _Enterprise_ -F received him, the lights and main systems throughout the entire ship went dark. One of the nacelles then exploded, damaging the other.


End file.
